Page 61 of Watched

His chest vibrates with a disgruntled groan, and I press my hard cock into his ass.

“I’m not an object for you to own,” he argues.

I get comfortable, forcing my knee between his legs and pulling his head onto my arm. “You’re a god, baby. And you own me, too.”

“I don’t want to. You’ve come into my life and fucked everything up.”

“Fucked it up, or made you question things about yourself? Because they’re two very different things.”

“The former.”

“Have I sent your internal compass on a spiral, baby?”

He clicks his teeth shut before pulling the pillow over my arm to rest his head against it, grumbling, “You’re leaving tomorrow, and I never want to see you again.”

“You love knowing that at any moment, I could show up wherever you are. You look at every camera in every building you enter. I know you’re telling yourself it’s because you’re scared I’m watching you, but in reality, you’re secretly hoping I am.”

He’ll never admit it aloud, but he likes being followed…watched. That’s what he’s getting high on right now, the knowledge I’ll continue to chase after him. Eventually, he’ll realise I caught him the first night he met me in that apartment.

I could see the fire in his eyes when he asked about Alexa, and I know that’s why he sent me that photo post-come, but never a video. He was showing me what I was missing while I was around her. I’m not sure he even realises why he did it.

I stretch my arm back and tap the lamp. He doesn’t move away while I do or fight my arm wrapping back around him. “Can I admit something?”

His muscles tighten, but I’m unsure whether it’s due to my question or my nose buried in his hair and inhaling the coconuts.

“I guess,” he sighs, masking his curiosity with sharp annoyance.

“It took me a while to understand why I was so drawn to you. I can usually find solutions or reasonings behind most things quickly. You intrigued me the first night I watched you play, but the deeper I dove into you and your life, the more intrigued I became.”

“Okay?”

I lean into his warmth, letting my eyes close. “Perfectionism, Rome. Your father demands it from you, just as mine does me.”

I hear him swallow. “You don’t seem like the type to care what others think.”

“I don’t. Even with my father now, I don’t…but I once did. Actually, that’s a lie. There are times I still do. I fought so hard to be the perfect son, but I realised in my late teens after each accomplishment that he would only raise the bar. I would never meet his unrealistic expectations. So, I stopped trying as hard but even still, I never asked for his help because I refused to allow him to see me as anything but capable and independent.” I sigh into his hair. “What I’m trying to say is, I understand you want to not disappoint your father. As much as you tell yourself you don’t care, and as deeply as you fight to convince yourself his opinion does not matter, there is a part of you conditioned to not allow him to view you as a failure.” He clears his throat, adjusting against me and the uncomfortable truth, but he doesn’t speak, so I kiss the back of his head. “Goodnight, baby.”

“Night,” he whispers.

Chapter twenty-five

ROME

Heat radiates in front of me like a steam fan blowing directly on my face. Opening my eyes, I realise I’m using Rain’s shoulder as a pillow.

Great. I won’t live that down.

I slowly lift my head, the dew sticking to my temple and cheek. Sweat pools between his collarbones and floods over, wetting the sheet beneath him. His face isn’t just glistening…it’s wet. His sweat-beaded chest and stomach rise and fall rapidly, lids glued shut, eyes moving frantically behind them.

“Rain,” I whisper. He doesn’t move, the nightmare continuing to corrupt his mind. My palm stains with sweat as I place it on his shoulder and shake, raising my voice, “Rain.”

He sucks in a deep breath, eyes springing open. His hand shoots straight to my throat, throwing me back and pinning me to the pillow. Within a second, he’s above me, staring down with flared nostrils and an angered expression that has my insides curling.

His face softens with recognition, and his hand unwraps from my throat. “Sorry, baby,” he apologises in a gruff tone. I suck in air and roll to the side with a cough. “I’m sorry.” He sounds a little more panicked as he rubs my back.

“What was that?” I rasp, sliding away from him.

“I thought you were someone else.”